


I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

by drummer_boy



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Calum is a bit of an ass, Domestic, Gen, Gore, Headaches, Supernatural Elements, Sydney - Freeform, Vampire Turning, but only bc he cares about Michael, minor muke, slight medicine (drug) abuse, throwing up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:26:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drummer_boy/pseuds/drummer_boy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael nearly hissed when he set foot in the sunlight because <cite>what the fuck</cite> that actually hurt him. He looked at his hands which had been exposed and were now sporting a nearly burnt, red look. Michael felt his stomach drop. <cite>No.</cite> He thought. <cite>This isn't real, get over yourself.</cite></p><p>Or, Michael finds himself turning into a vampire, but keeps assuring the guys that he’s okay</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get myself to stick to a scedule, beware of slow updates, though!  
> I wanted to focus more on the whole turning into a vampire and the angst that comes with it rather than the characters already being a vampire. Sooo this is probably going to be a very slow story.
> 
>  
> 
> Title taken from 'I'm Not Okay (I Promise)' by My Chemical Romance

The first thing he notices is the huge black spot in his memory where last night was supposed to be.

How could he not find it peculiar how he couldn't remember a single thing after having woken up with a terrible headache?

Michael reaches for his phone on the nightstand, surprised to see it was actually there. He squints at the bright light it gives off once he unlocks it, blaming it on the lots of drinks he's sure he's had last night, and looks at the time.

11:47, at least it's not a week day.  
Michael can't bring himself to get up, so he sinks back into the pillows, falling asleep again.

It wasn't until Calum barged into his room, the sound of the door slamming into his wall making the loudest noise possible, that he wakes up again.  
Michael shoots upright, putting a hand to his chest in surprise.

"Thank god, you're awake. Where the fuck were you last night, man?" Calum says a little too loud.

"Only because you woke me up." Michael lets out a sigh, seeing there was nothing wrong, and lets himself fall back down on his bed.

"Seriously, where were you?" Calum walked over to the window and opened the curtains.  
Fucking hell, that's bright. Michael quickly pulls the covers over his head.

"Are you hungover?" he hears Calum's voice, muffled by the blankets.

"I dunno, probably."

"So you don't remember last night?" Michael can almost hear the smirk in Calum's voice.

Michael shakes his head, and then remembers he was still under the covers and that it must've looked pretty silly, so he quickly added "No."

A silence fell over the room.

"Well, at least you're back home." Calum sighs. "We didn't know you were gone until you stumbled in through the back door. We were worried about you."

"Awww, were you now?" Michael smiles.

"Shut up." Calum laughs and starts walking back to the hallway.  
"Ashton's gone out for a run, Luke and I are downstairs if you need anything."

"Well duh, where else would you be." Michael rolls his eyes, aware that Calum can't see him.

Michael could hear Calum laughing even after he had left the room and closed the door, making him smile too. He emerges from his little cocoon of blankets to grab his phone.  
13:04, might as well make an effort to get up now that he's fully awake.

He throws off the covers and stands up. It was now that Michael remembers the headache, only it felt much, _much_  worse.  
Like someone was repeatedly swinging a hammer at the inside of his skull, trying to break his bones. It made him feel a bit dizzy.

Michael shakes the thought, effectively making the headache worse, and curses at himself for his stupidity. He slouches towards the big window, and closes the curtains again.  
Much better.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hot shower and three aspirins later, Michael lets himself fall back onto his bed. He hadn't even bothered to get under the covers again, but he felt himself slip back into dreamland when he hears loud footsteps making their way up the staircase.

A soft knock on his door and Calum's voice followed:  
"Mikey, you awake?"

"Yeah." He replies.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

The door swings open. Thankfully not as violent as it had an hour ago.

"You okay?" Calum walks over and stands next to Michael's bed.

Michael groans in response.  
"Probably just hungover. I'm sure I'll be able to go to work tomorrow."

A dimpled smile appears on Calum's face.  
"That's good. Do you want anything to eat?"

"Nah, 'm not hungry."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"Just checking." Calum shrugged. "Anything else you need?"

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks though." Michael couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"Alright. Take care of yourself, okay?" Calum stood in the doorway again.

"Of course."


	2. 002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic!5SOS and lots of dialogue, what more could one want?

"So, mister decides to stay in bed all day only to come downstairs just as we're about to have dinner, huh?" Ashton says as soon as Michael sets foot in the living room.

"You know me, I wouldn't stop annoying you guys even if I got myself sick." The other two boys look up at the sound of Michael's voice.

"Besides," Michael drops down onto the couch in between Luke and Ashton. "I actually feel a whole lot better."

Luke raises his eyebrows at Michael's comment. "You sure? You even look sick this time."

"Har har. That only happened _once_!" Michael knows he's lying. He's stayed home from work pretending to be sick _many_ times, but he tries to preserve at least  some of his dignity.

"Uh huh."

"If you say so, Mikey." Calum shoots Michael a playful grin, but he just let out a long sigh.  
Michael was too tired for this right now, anyway.

"So, what's for dinner?" He decided to change the subject.

"Lasagna." Luke grinned.

Michael huffed. "Gross!"

"We weren't counting on your presence, Mister Clifford, so..." Ashton stands up and walks towards the kitchen.

"You don't want me here, I get it." Michael gets up too, following the oldest roommate.

"I could make you some eggs, if you want." Ashton puts on a pair of bright pink oven mitts.

"I'm not sick, you don't have to take care of me." He laughs.

Michael shakes his head, and gets a cup of ramen noodles from one of the cupboards. He turns on the watercooker and leans against the counter, watching Ashton struggle to get the lasagna out of the oven.

As soon as the dish stands safely on the countertop, Ashton pulls off the oven mitts and puts his hand on Michael's forehead.

"You're burning up, though."

"Dude, you just stuck your hands in a 200 degree oven." Michael laughs, he can literally _feel_ the heat radiating off of his friend's hands.

"Alright, alright, I believe you." Ashton starts preparing the three plates he'd grabbed from the cupboard.

~~~~~~~~~~

A short, loud ding! from the watercooker told Michael the water was boiling. He takes his time pouring the water, and goes to join the boys in the living room. He's careful not to spill any water, taking small steps with the hot bowl in his hands.

Michael sits back down in between Ashton and Luke, he can't help but notice how loud they were chewing their food.  
Michael cringes. That has never been a pleasant sound to him.

He stirs his noodles absentmindedly with a fork, waiting for them to cool down a bit.

"Hey, Earth to Michael." Michael looks up at the sound of his name being called.

"What? Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

Calum huffs, "Obviously." Luke rolls his eyes.

"Just saying you don't have to pretend to be perfectly healthy when you're not. You should probably call off work tomorrow."

What?

"Thanks, but, really. I'm fine."

Michael takes a bite of his ramen, figuring they've cooled down enough.

"You've been in bed all day! You look terrible!"

"Gee, thanks, Luke."

"Just stating the facts..."

Calum pokes Luke in his side, effectively taking his attention off of Michael.

"How about the fact that you've kept the curtains closed all day, then?" Ashton apparently decided that he should have a say in it, too.

Michael sighs. "So, what about it? I've got a constant throbbing headache, what else is new?"

"So you are sick!" Calum yelled. Michael knows that it'd be pointless to even try to argue with his friends, now.

He raises his fork full of ramen to his mouth when he felt his stomach turn upside down. He drops the fork and stands up abruptly to go to the bathroom, but starts to feel dizzy again and has to hold onto Ashton's shoulders to stay upright.

He was going to puke. Fuck, he needed to get to the toilet before he'd do it all over their dinner.

Michael feels himself retch and has to hold a hand in front of his mouth to stop himself from vomiting.

Luke seemed to know what was going on, though, because he left the room in an instant and came running back with a bucket and put it down in front of Michael. The second he put it down Michael drops to the floor and empties what little food he had in his stomach into the plastic container.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't sound like a vampire fic at all, I know. Sorry, it's a slow start. Bear with me!


	3. 003

After what felt like hours, Michael was finally done. Boy he was exhausted. His throat hurt and he felt gross, but at least the dizzyness and nausea had subsided.

Calum and Ashton had cleaned everything up. They'd gotten rid of the food, too. None of the boys had much of an appetite after what happened, anyway.

Michael sat next to Luke on the couch, who was tracing circles on his back, calming him down.

"Alright, I might just be a little sick." Michael admits.

He rests his head onto Luke's broad chest, feeling himself slip away not long after.

~~~~~~~~~~

Michael wakes up the next morning in his own bed. He sits upright and sees that the curtains are drawn, even though it's still dark outside.  
Shit, what time is it?

He looks around for his phone but can't find it anywhere, so he gets out of bed quietly, just in case it's very early in the morning and everyone's still asleep. Nevertheless, Michael was pleased to find his headache gone for real, as well as the nausea.

Michael tiptoes down the stairs, and is then greeted by Ashton's loud voice. "Good morning!"

He winces. Alright, maybe his headache hasn't gone completely.

"Sorry." Ashton almost-whispers. "Feeling any better?"

"Ehh," Michael mumbles.

Ashton cocks his head to the side. "'Ehh'?"

"I'm tired as fuck but at least I don't have to throw up anymore." He shrugs.  
"What time is it, anyway?"

"It's only seven thirty. I'm off to work in a couple minutes. Luke and Cal already left."

"Oh."

The two boys make their way to the kitchen. Ashton gets a couple of eggs from the cupboard and turns on the stove.

"You want me to make you breakfast?" Ashton asked.

Michael could practically feel his insides turn upside down at the thought of eating. He shakes his head and smiles weakly. "I don't think my stomach's ready for that just yet."

He gets himself a glass of water and slouches towards the living room. As Ashton's making breakfast for himself a smell spreads around he kitchen, and it didn't do Michael any good. It was as if Ashton was baking rotten eggs, seasoned with moldy cheese. Was he not bothered by it? At all?

Michael falls down onto the couch and gulps the glass of water down in one go. A couple minutes later Ashton appeared from the kitchen with a plate of eggs and toast.  
"I take it you're staying home sick?" He sits down next to Michael and dives into his meal.

"Yup." He sighs. Michael was so going to get in trouble with his boss again.

It didn't take Ashton long at all to finish eating, and he left for work soon after, too. Leaving Michael alone until one of his three friends returned from their jobs.

Michael tried to go back to sleep, but he found himself unable to. He was tired, alright. But restless, as well.

It was eerily silent in the living room, so Michael turns on the tv. The opening theme to some reality show blasts from the speakers. Fucking hell, that's loud. Michael covers his ears whilst turning the tv down to a respectable, non-deafening volume.

It didn't take long for Michael to find himself to be bored. He couldn't seem to focus on whatever was happening on the tv, and could feel his headache getting worse by the minute.

He glances at the clock, 8:27. Plenty of time for a long, hot shower to forget about everything for a little while.

Michael stumbles up the stairs and gets undressed.


	4. 004

Alright, this was getting ridiculous. Someone must be playing a trick on him, he's _sure_ of it.

Michael has searched for God _knows_ how long, and he  still couldn’t find his God damn phone.

He was definitely going to get in trouble the next time he’d show up for work, shit.

Michael sits down onto the couch in defeat, but nearly jumps up when a sudden loud noise from inside the thing startles him.  
Was that a _ringtone_?

Michael pulls off the cushions and pillows with haste and sighs in relief when he sees his phone laying there. It _must’ve_ fallen out of his pocket yesterday.  
Why didn't he look here earlier?

He quickly retrieves it and sloppily throws the cushions back onto the couch, sending dust flying everywhere.

Michael coughs, and unlocks his phone.

That's weird, the code didn’t work.

He tries again. No luck.

Only then did Michael notice; that's not his lockscreen background.

This wasn’t Michael’s phone.

God dammit, Luke!

Michael tries to think past his pounding headache to see if he could remember the password to Luke’s phone. Has he ever even seen Luke unlock his phone? Michael couldn’t remember, his head was way too foggy.

Fuck.

Michael groans. That little fucker had taken the wrong phone to work with him. Michael, who was sick, was going to have to take his stupid-ass phone to Luke in order to get his own fucking phone back.

He looks at the time. Thank God, at least something was in Michael’s favor today.

Luke's lunch break is in twenty minutes. Just enough time to get to the store by foot because let’s face it: Michael wasn’t going to drive there in his current state.

Michael quickly put on his shoes and grabs a jacket. He tries to ignore his headache which only seemed to be increasing the more Michael rushed himself. Michael makes sure he had Luke’s phone and his keys in his pockets, and closes the front door behind him.

Holy shit it was bright outside.  
Sure, it was nearly 1 PM, but Michael did not expect this.

He squints at the bright midday sun, and hurriedly walks towards the town center. His head was pounding, and he almost turns back to get a hat or sunglasses or something, but Michael pulls through.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Michael! What the fuck are you doing here?!” Luke exclaims as soon as he sets foot in the record store.

“Nice to see you too, Luke.” Michael pulls his phone from his pocket.

He waves it in front of Luke’s face. “You took the wrong phone, asshole.” He laughs as Luke turns white. He pulls Michael’s phone from his back pocket, confirming the fact that Michael didn't come here for nothing. That's a relief.

Luke unlocks the phone in his hands, and blushes.

“Shit, dude, I’m so sorry! I would’ve dropped it off during my break you really didn’t need to come all the way over here, I-“

“Well, I’m here now." Michael cuts him off. "Let’s just swap phones so I can go home again.” Michael smiles.

They do so, and Luke goes back to restocking some shelves with cd’s. _Didn’t he have a lunch break now?_

Michael looks at the big clock located on the wall behind the cash register. Oh. He must’ve either walked much faster than he thought he was or misjudged the time completely. Luke didn’t have his break for another fifteen minutes.

Michael cringes at the thought of going outside again, the severity of his headache had dropped exceedingly now that he was inside again. Might as well wander around a bit and look at all the music while he's here.

It isn't long until a pastel blue and pink record catches his attention.

“Holy shit is that The 1975’s new album!?” Luke’s head emerges from behind a stack of cd’s.

“Hell yeah, it is! Just came in today, too.” He makes his way over to Michael, who's already picked up one of the vinyl records.

The biggest smile was plastered on his face, Michael knows it, but he’s waited so long for the release of their new album.

His face drops, however, when he realizes he didn’t bring his wallet.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Luke asks.

“Didn’t bring any money.” Michael mumbles and puts the record back.

“It’ll still be here tomorrow,” Luke said. “we can even hold it back for you until you come back.”

“That’d be great, yeah.” He sighs.

“Are you okay?”

Really not. Michael nods quickly.

Michael starts to walk back to the entrance, but Luke grabs his shoulder and turns him around.

“Mike, look at me. Are you okay?”  
He meets Luke’s eyes, filled with worry. _Why is he so concerned?_

“You look like death, Mikey.” It was as if Luke could read his mind. “Have you eaten enough?”

No. He nods.

“Gotten enough sleep?”

Not in the least. He nods again.

“You don’t look like it, you sure?”

“God.  Yes, Luke. I’m fine. Probably just a migraine or whatever.” Michael gives him a genuine smile. He didn’t want his friends to worry about him.  
Luke sighs and smiles back, and let go of Michael’s arm.

“Get some rest, don’t worry about the album.” Michael mentally prepares himself to go outside again.

“I will. Won’t. Don’t worry about me.” He waves goodbye to Luke and starts walking back home. This time with his own phone in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far vampirism equals headaches and being tired all the fucking time. Quality character development, here.  
> Please do tell me what you think of this fic so far! I'd love to get some people's opinions on it!


	5. 005

Michael crashes face-first onto the couch as soon as he gets home. Damn, he was exhausted.

 _Surely_ a 20-minute walk couldn't be this draining?

The thing was; Michael wasn't even sure that what he had was a migraine at all. Sure, he had a constant headache and bright lights bothered him, but a lack of sleep? Usually he'd sleep all day, if he could. He hadn't slept all night. Never has he experienced that because of a migraine.

After laying still for some time, Michael doesn't know nor cares for how long, his eyes began to flutter close and he feels himself give in to the exhaustion.  
Finally, he thinks.

Soon enough, Michael wakes up from Luke and Calum's loud voices right next to him. He shoots up, only to see that they weren't there.

What the hell? He still hears them talking loud and clear, where the fuck are they?

Their voices increase in volume, nearing the border of being too loud, and Michael covers his ears whilst frantically looking around. He must be hallucinating. Calum and Luke were nowhere to be seen. What the fuck was happening to him?

Their voices become even louder, Michael can't even make out what the hell they were talking about. It was as if they were _inside_ his head, invading and screaming over his own thoughts. He couldn't focus.

Other sounds started increasing in intensity, too. The leaking tap, the sound of cars driving by outside, hell, his own heartbeat was drumming uncontrollably in his head.

Michael felt tears starting to well up in his eyes. Make it stop, make it stop, please, it hurts.

Then, with the deafening noise of creaking hinges and the sound of a door being opened, it all became too much for Michael and he was crying. Oh my God, oh my God ohmy God ohmygod it hurts it hurts ithurts ithurts please!

The door falls back into the lock with a loud BANG that Michael was sure would explode his brain if it hadn't already. He didn't know. He couldn't feel anything.

"Michael? Holy shit, Michael!" Calum's voice thunders above all other noises. It was as if somebody had taped headphones to his head and was continuously turning up the volume. He couldn't do anything.

Heavy footsteps sound in his head.  
Michael's eyes shoot open when a cold hand is placed on his shoulder. His ragged breathing hitches.

"Michael? What's wrong?" Worry is plastered on Luke's face once again, but his voice came out too loud, Michael presses his hands further onto his ears. Hopelessly trying to block out the noise.

He knows he looks like a mess, but he doesn't care because everything was happening all at once in his head. He hears his friend's voices, the doors being opened and slammed shut, feet shuffling over the carpet like the rolling of thunder, the faucet spilling water like the Niagara falls and everything was loud and it _hurt_ and he couldn't concentrate on _anything_ and it only made his headache worse and he didn't know how to stop it he didn't know what was  wrong with him, he-

"Mikey." Luke whispered.  
Did he whisper? He was practically screaming in Michael's head, but it was noticeably fainter. Michael knew he had to do something.

"Mike- ---s ok-- lis--n -o me ple-se. Fo--s -n my voi-- y--re gonna be fi--. -lease, Mi---el. cal- -uor bre-thing, you-- -e okay. It'll p-ss. Mikey, it's going to be okay. Listen to me." Michael tries to focus on Luke's faint voice. As he did so, all the deafening noises in his head decreased in volume and he could hear himself thinking again.

Michael notices that Luke was holding him, hugging him. He was wiping away Michael's tears and shushing his mind.

He lets out a shaking breath, feeling ready for sleep to take him again.

"Mike, you okay?" Luke whispered. He whispered, thank God, Michael's hearing has returned to normal again.

He nods in response.

"What happened?"

"I don't know." Michael's voice is faint and shaky, but it felt rough. He rests his head on Luke's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

"Tell me. I want to help."

Michael sighs. "Everything was so loud, Luke. I- I couldn't hear myself think." Luke brushes his hand through Michael's hair.

"I really hope it's just a migraine." Luke was still whispering.

He nods again. "Yeah, I hope so too."

They sit like that for a couple minutes when Calum enters the living room from the kitchen with Chinese takeout and a glass of water in his hands.  
He hands the glass to Michael, who takes it with two still shaking hands.

His throat hurts like hell, but he swallows through the pain, figuring he must be at least somewhat dehydrated. He doesn't remember drinking anything at all, today.

"Ashton's going to be home late." Calum mumbles.  
"He said he'd grab some food somewhere else."

~~~~~~~~~~

Michael watches as the two other boys eat in silence. He's laying on the couch, but finds himself unable to fall asleep again. Calum has gotten him some paracetamol, which he gladly took. Michael tries to focus on Luke's breathing to keep himself grounded.

Then, he hears Ashton's voice. It's not as loud as Luke and Calum's voices had been, but still distinctive and there. Michael looks around, confirming the fact that Ashton was nowhere to be seen. Not again.

Michael closes his eyes and tries to focus on his voice, which then became slightly clearer. Michael could hear him speak clear as day.  
"Yeah, no problem. I'll make sure to tell him that. Alright. No, yeah." He was talking to someone. What? Was he on the phone?

The sound of keys clinking and the front door opening shakes Michael from his thoughts. Surely, there stood Ashton, phone held up to his ear.

This definitely wasn't a migraine.


	6. 006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making you lot wait so long for an update! I've written two chapters to make up for it, and I will be posting the next one tomorrow. Thanks for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy these next few chapters!!!

Michael lays on his bed, scrolling through instagram on his phone.  
A quick glance at the corner of his brightly lit screen tells him the time is nearing 4 AM.

He'd gone upstairs after his roommates had finished eating. They'd turned on the tv, but it proved to be too much for Michael to process at the moment.

He wishes he could say he was improving, but he was feeling so much worse than he had yesterday.  
And that was saying something.

Everything hurts.  
His head, his eyes, his throat. If he even moved the slightest bit his muscles, even his bones would ache. And to top it off, he couldn't sleep.   
Figures.

Hours pass, and Michael can hear the other boys waking up. The floor beneath their feet creaking and the sound of the shower being turned on and off repeatedly as they take their turns in the bathroom.

Soon after, the smell of pancakes invades Michael's room, along with the smell of oil? Cabbage? Carrots?

Michael tries to focus on the video being played on his phone, but loud footsteps throughout the house keep him from paying attention.

When he hears the front door being opened and closed for the third time, the house falls silent. Thank God.  
Michael sighs.

He sits upright and throws his legs off the side of his bed with a groan, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his body with the movement.

He slowly makes his way over to the bathroom, and gets caught by his reflection in the mirror.

No wonder they're all so worried about me. He thinks. I **_actually_** look like Death.

Michael studies his face for a brief moment. His eyes have sunken in, huge dark circles underneath them. His skin was paler than usual (was that even possible?), and he could've sworn that his eyes were a darker colour as well, but Michael quickly shakes the thought from his head. You’re seeing things, Michael. He tells himself.

Needless to say, he looked properly sick.  
At least his boss couldn't go off at him for faking it, now.

Michael brushes his teeth, and goes downstairs.

His stomach growls. It's the first time in three days that Michael actually feels somewhat hungry.  
He looks around the kitchen, ignoring the pain in his body as best he could, searching for something to snack on.

Some leftovers from the takeout yesterday catch his attention. Michael perches up and puts the leftovers into the microwave as fast as he can.  
It doesn’t take long for them to heat up at all, and the smell of noodles and various vegetables fills the kitchen.

Michael doesn’t bother going back upstairs with the food, he might as well eat it here, keep all the mess in the kitchen.

He begins to regret his decision though, when he swallows his first bite and feels his stomach turn and twist in a very sickening way.

Not again.

Michael tries to ignore it. He takes another bite, and another one. Each going down his esophagus with more difficulty.  
It doesn’t take long for him to drop his bowl and fork, and he's throwing up what little food he's consumed in the sink.

Michael rests his elbows on the counter top when he's done. He's got his hands buried in his hair, and the sunlight was shining through the drawn curtains on his back uncomfortably.

He knows his situation isn’t getting any better. He hadn’t eaten anything in two days and when he did, he’d throw up immediately. Surely that can’t be your every day headache?

Michael fills a glass with tap water and gulps it down as if his life depends on it, remembering that he's not supposed to go without water for any more than three days.  
He hadn’t felt that thirsty, either. What the hell was going on with him?!

Michael rubs his eyes and decides to go back upstairs. There’s not much else he can do, anyway. He washes his puke in the sink away as best he can, and drops face-first onto his bed minutes later.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the front door opening and closing hits Michael’s ears. He sits upright quickly, completely forgetting about the pain that shoots through his body as he does so.

Michael peeks at the clock on his phone, and realizes that he’s just been laying there, doing nothing, for hours.  
It was 4:30 PM, meaning that it was most likely Calum who’d come home from work.

Footsteps make their way up the stairs, and Michael lets himself fall back down, relaxing slightly.

It was indeed Calum, who makes his presence known by knocking on the door after a soft “Are you awake yet?”

”Yeah, come in.” Michael cringes at the sound of his voice. It felt rough and dry and sounded just as bad (if not worse) as yesterday.

The door opens slowly and Calum steps inside, keeping one hand behind his back suspiciously.

”Doing any better yet?” He asks and Michael groans in return.

”I’ll manage.” He says, but he wasn’t so sure of that anymore. Not that Calum needed to know, that boy didn’t deserve any more stress than his job was already putting on him.

”Only if you say so.” Calum steps towards Michael’s bed, still keeping his hand behind his back. What was he keeping from him?

”Luke asked me to drop this off for you.” Michael is about to ask what the hell he meant by that when Calum reveals The 1975’s vinyl record from behind his back.  
Michael gets up immediately, taking the record from Calum’s hands.

”Holy shit he actually-! I didn’t pay for it, though? Does he want me to-“

”Nah, he said it was a very early birthday gift.” Calum laughs, effectively making Michael laugh, too. Luke actually got me the album?! Remind me to hug him when he gets home, oh my God.

”Wow, I’m, I’m speechless. Would you put it on for me, please?” He quickly undoes the cover from its plastic wrapping and hands the record back to Calum.

”Only because you’re sick.” He chuckles, and turns Michael’s record player on.

Michael relaxes back into his pillows when he hears the first notes of The 1975 play. Maybe today wasn’t so bad, after all.

”I’m going to get groceries real quick. Anything you need?”

”Nah, don’t think so.”

”Alright. Seeya in a bit!”  
With that, Calum leaves the room and Michael was left alone with his music.


	7. 007

Michael starts to feel drowsy about halfway through the album, and he thinks he’s finally about to fall asleep.  
Until his stomach makes a peculiar sound and soon after he’s vomiting all over his sheets.

His heart is racing and Michael suddenly feels very hot and he’s panicking because I haven’t eaten all day! And throwing up now would actually be _very dangerous_ and he feels so sick all of a sudden and he can’t do anything about this and  fuck.

As quickly as the urge to throw up had come, it had faded, and Michael is left with dirty sheets soaked in gastric juice.  
He's covered in sweat and spit and he was shaking heavily and he felt so gross.

He carefully gets up, holding onto the wall for support.  
Michael slowly makes his way towards the bathroom, not bothering to turn off the record that's still playing.

He winces at the bright hallway lights, and as soon as he makes it to the bathroom he throws the door shut and collapses on the floor.

He rests his head against the door, and sighs.  
What the fuck is happening to me?

Michael doesn’t get a moment of peace, as he starts to retch again and quickly crawls towards the toilet.  
He holds onto the toilet seat and he’s pretty sure his stomach could join the circus, twisting and turning and doing backflips, but nothing comes out.

Michael starts to feel dizzy, and it gets the best of him along with the nausea.

He feels himself slip away onto the cold tile floor as the world turns dark before his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Michael wakes up in his bed, he shoots upright and feels extremely hot.  
He throws the covers off of him quickly, breathing heavily.

A sigh catches Michael’s attention, and he turns his head to see Calum sitting in a chair next to his bed.

”What the hell happened?” Michael asks, his voice barely audible.

Calum shifts in the wooden chair. “I found you passed out on the bathroom floor. I though you- Fuck. I thought you were dead.”

Michael could hear the worry and relief in his voice, he feels guilty that his best friend has to worry so much about him just because he’d caught some stupid disease.

”What time is it?” Michael asks after noticing how dark it is.

”One-something. I’m not sure.”

It is then that Michael notices Calum’s puffy and red eyes.

”Shit, Cal. You’ve been crying?”

Calum nods shortly. “It’s just, I don’t want to lose you, Mikey. Don’t ever scare me like that again, please,”

"I'll be fine, I swear."

Michael motions for Calum to sit next to him, which he does. He pulls Calum in for a hug, and rests his head on his shoulder.

”I wouldn’t dare.”

He breathes in Calum’s familiar scent, which calms him down ever so slightly. He then becomes aware of how thirsty he actually is, the insufficient intake of water finally catching up to him.

Michael suddenly feels very uncomfortable, and pulls out of Calum’s embrace.  
“Something wrong?”

His throat hurt from how dry it was.

”Yeah, just. Thirsty, I guess.” His voice sounds even hoarser than it had this morning.

Calum jumps up and practically runs out the door with a “I’ll get you something to drink!”  
“Get me some aspirin too, please!” Michael laughs.

Calum re-enters Michael’s room and hands Michael a glass of water and two small pills.

”We’re out of aspirin, now. How many did you take the past couple days?!” Calum sits back down next to Michael. It’s pretty clear he’s dead tired.

Michael just shrugs and swallows the pills, and chugs down the rest of the water in one go.  
He ignores the bitter taste, and lays down.

”You should get some sleep, Cal. You look exhausted.” Even in the dark of his room, Michael could clearly see the bags under Calum’s eyes.

Calum smiles and gets up.

“You too, Mike. You look like a live corpse.” Michael is relieved nonetheless when he leaves his room with a laugh, and buries his head inside his pillows, feeling very cold all of a sudden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on chapter 8 right now! I'm sure I'll have it up before sunday next week~!!!


	8. 008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am the absolute worst at keeping promises, I'm so so sorry!
> 
> Stuff finally goes down this chapter, though. We're finally getting somewhere with the story :O  
> Thanks for being so patient, much love to you all!!!

Michael hears the house wake up. Even with his headache -which wasn't getting any less worse- he could easily recognize each of his roommate's footsteps and shower routines. Michael closes his eyes and focuses on their voices which he could faintly hear downstairs. Luke was talking to Ashton. Something about groceries. Was it his turn to go shopping? Michael wasn't sure. What day was it even today? Thursday? Damn, the past couple days have  _really_   fucked up his sense of time.

He hasn't slept at all after Calum left. Figures. He's spent the night switching from curling up under multiple covers trying to stay warm to sweating his ass off and throwing them off in anger. He could physically feel his temperature rising and falling and it was a feeling far from pleasant. Despite being sleep deprived, Michael didn’t really feel tired. Well, maybe he was. Though this is a different kind of tired. He thinks.

Michael scrolls through Twitter until he notices that everybody has left the house. No footsteps were thundering up and down the stairs, no smell of eggs being baked were filling his nose. 

It was eerily silent.

Michael gets up and ignores the bright light already shining through his curtains at 8:30 AM and heads straight for the bathroom. He opens the small cupboard next to the mirror in a hurry and grabs the package of aspirins.

Empty. _Of course_ _._  If only he'd listened to Calum earlier today.

Michael sighs and walks back to his room and texts Calum asking if he could stop by the drug store after work.

He drops back down on his bed, and waits for a reply. It’s not like he’s got anything better to do, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~

It's been an hour and a half and Calum has  _still_  not answered. He hadn’t even opened the message yet! Granted, he was at work but  _come on_.

Michael's headache is only getting worse and  _on top of that_ his throat is so dry it's killing him. He goes back to the bathroom and downs a glass of water with difficulty, and rummages through the cupboard hoping to find strepsils or anything else for his throat.

No such luck.  _What the fuck_ did he do to deserve this?

 

Michael looks in the mirror and  _whoa_. Calum was right about the walking corpse thing.

His sunken-in eyes from yesterday? That was  _nothing_  compared to the mess he was looking at right now. Never did he think someone could look like this and still be  _alive_.

The longer Michael looks at his reflection, the more uncomfortable it makes him feel. Something felt off. Wrong. It wasn't quite  _Michael_ , and it was creeping him out.

He jumps up when the sound of his ringtone bursts his focus and Michael runs as fast as he could (which, to be honest, wasn't really fast at all) back to his room to pick up his phone.

Calum's voice sounds from the small speaker. "Hey Mikey!"

"Hey dude." Michael croaks out.

"Are you feeling any better yet? Shit wait no, of course not. You wouldn't ask for medicine if you weren't sick. Sorry."

"It's fine, really-"

"About that! I have to stay in late so I can't get some after work. I'll ask Luke if he can bring you some, alright?"

"Um, sure. Thanks. What time will you be home?"

"Ah, I really don't know, after eight, for sure. I gotta go now, take care!"

"Alright. Seeya!"

"Bye!"

Michael presses the end-call button before Calum can, and drops his phone on his bed in defeat. Would he even survive until Luke would come back? Michael was sure he was just suffering from really bad migraine but this was getting a little ridiculous. He rubs his eyes and  _fucking hell_  how in the world do his black-out curtains let through so much light?! It's starting to worry Michael how sensitive to light he'd become, but the permanent headache had him too distracted to really think about it.

He swallows. Alright.  _This has got to stop._  His throat was dry _again_ and he was thirsty but he was already feeling slightly nauseous and his stomach was definitely _not_ happy about him drinking water mere minutes ago and he  _really_ needed those aspirins. Now.

He has no excuse to not go outside anymore.

Michael glances at the clock and gets dressed in record time. He stretches in hopes of relieving some stress from his sore muscles, brushes his hand through his hair in a (poor) attempt to tame his wild bedhair, and races downstairs.

He makes sure he has his wallet with him and grabs the first pair of sunglasses he can find, remembering the last time he went outside all too well.

He takes a deep breath and then closes the door behind him.

Though it's only 10:15 in the morning, the sun was shining brighter than ever. Michael squints his eyes behind the sunglasses, gathering the mental strength to pull him through to the local drug store.

Michael nearly hisses when he sets foot in the sunlight because  _what the fuck_  that actually hurt him. He looks at his hands which had been exposed and were now sporting a nearly burnt, red look. Michael feels his stomach drop.  _No_. He thinks.  _This isn't real, get over yourself_.

He pulls the hood over his head and shoves his hands deep in his pockets, ignoring the burning sensation.  _You're imagining things, Michael. You're sick. You're gonna be okay._  He takes a deep breath when he steps out from the shadow of the porch because it  _hurts, fuck, it hurts so bad._ He takes deep breaths and tries to focus but the sun seems to affect him through all the layers of clothing, stabbing and biting at his skin. He picks up his pace, deciding it'd be best to just get what he needed and go back home. 

 

Before he left the house he was nauseous, irritated, thirsty, and had a horrible headache. But now? Good God, now he literally felt like he was  _on fire_ , too. If he wasn't on his way to get something to relieve some of the pain, he would've gone back inside immediately. Michael was getting dizzy and he’s sure he would've passed the drug store if he hadn't almost walked into the sign hanging right outside.

He quickly steps inside and catchees his breath in the safety of the artificial lights.

Aside from the clerk behind the counter, he was the only one there, so he takes his hands from his pockets and examines them.

No burn marks.

He  _was_  imagining things!

Oh God, he was  _imagining things_!

Would he have to go to a hospital now? Surely this could be dangerous. Which illnesses even had hallucinations as symptoms? Michael didn't want to think about it.

"Are you okay, sir?" Michael looks up at the unfamiliar voice. Shit, the clerk must've seen him acting strange.

"Uh, yeah, I'm- I'm okay, yeah." He says. He walks up to the counter, still deep in thought about, well. About  _all this_. He had a constant headache that seemed to increase and decrease with the intensity of light, he hadn't eaten anything at all this week, yet was still functioning (semi-)perfectly. He couldn't fall asleep unless he knocked himself out one way or another, and now he fucking  _burnt_  his hands when he stepped outside. It sounded strangely familiar but Michael knows that it can't be true. It wasn't normal, that's for sure, but there  _had_ to be a logical explanation for this all.

Maybe he'd go to the doctor's tomorrow, if his situation didn't improve overnight.

"What can I get for you?" The clerk asks.

"Just, aspirin and strepsils, please." Michael's voice sounds weak, empty, even in his own ears. That's new.

Michael pays and with a quick 'thank you' he was mentally preparing himself to go outside again.

Would the same thing happen again? Or was it just a one-time thing? He didn't have any burn marks on his hands anymore but he knows. He  _knows_  it was real and it had happened and as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't because he had to go through it again before he could dive under the covers of his bed and never come out again.

Michael prays that he make it home in one piece, and pushes the door open.

He let out a short yelp and tries to cover his face with his hands, to no avail. It felt like the sun was melting his skin off, it was so, _so_  hot, Michael could already feel the sweat streaming down his face and  _Jesus Christ_  he had to get home. Quickly.

Michael rushes forward, trying his best to keep every centimeter of his body covered. He sticks to the shady side of the road, but his head is still buzzing and the sunglasses are practically useless. He focuses on his goal and pushes through. Just a couple more blocks, it wasn't that far. One more turn and he'd be in his street.

A hand on his shoulder startles him.

"Do you have any spare change, sir?" Michael turns around. Oh. It was a man –judging by his untamed hair, clothes, and smell- probably homeless.

The man looks at him with big eyes, but it takes a while for everything to register in Michael's brain.

Michael sniffs, he was sure he could faintly smell something burning, but he ignores it. What was he doing just standing here? This man wanted something from him! He sniffs again. Yeah, something was definitely burning. But there was  _something else_ , too.

"Sir?" The man spoke again, but Michael was lost in thought.

As if the burning sun and all his nausea had suddenly become the least of his worries, Michael inhaled deeply through his nose and focused on the other smell. It was _sweet_ , it smelled  _good._  He inhaled again, the scent fills his head, it was intoxicating and  _irresistible_. Michael finds the man to be the source of it, suddenly becoming aware of both the fact that he'd just been standing there like a creep sniffing the air, and the fact that he hasn't really drunk anything the past week.

"Sorry, I- uh, don't have any, any cash." He eyes the man in front of him, who was now seated against a wall in a small alleyway. Something wasn't right.

A small red spot on his hand caught Michael's vision. He was bleeding.

Michael shook his head.  _No_. This was insane, this wasn't happening. He wants to turn around and walk away but he can't. Keeping his gaze on the man's bleeding hand, Michael sighs and breathes in deeply, to try and calm himself down.

That, however, seemed to trigger something in him.

He feels his muscles twitch, his mouth slightly hung open and saliva drooling over the corners of his mouth. His teeth hurt and he could feel -something- pierce through his gums with great pain. Michael was terrified. He's shaking, he needs to leave  _right now_  but he's glued to the ground. Michael looks around for a way out, an  _escape_ , but he's stuck. He closes his eyes in hopes of controlling the situation but all it seemed to do was intensify the heavenly smell of what he now knew was  _blood_. 

Before he knows it, he has the man pinned up to the wall with strength Michael didn't know he possessed. The guy's head hits the wall with a sickeningly crash and a puddle of red liquid starts forming at Michael's feet.

He inhales deeply, instinct completely taken over now, and sinks his teeth into the man's flesh. Immediately he can feel the warm liquid running down his throat, quenching the thirst and stilling the hunger he wasn't quite aware of he had. Michael drinks and drinks, even shamelessly groaning because  _finally_  he feels good again. The bumping in his head had ceased and made place for a pleasantly buzzing feeling. He didn't feel weak or irritated anymore. He didn't stop, wanting to taste as much of this wonderful medicine as he could. He doesn't care how messy he's being either.

 

It's not until the body under him goes limp that Michael comes back to his senses. It takes him a minute to realize what had happened. What  _he_ had  _done_. He stares in shock at the man. At the  _body_. He'd just- he, he not only killed,  _fuck_. The man was  _dead_ , Jesus Christ! _Oh God damn no this can’t be real. It can’t be it can’t I can’t-_ Michael looks at all the blood. Yeah, no doubt. It was every- _fucking_ -where.

 

He stares at his hands. Red. His clothes were all nearly _soaked_. It's dripping down his chin, and Michael could fucking  _taste_  it in his mouth. He was disgusted at himself for how good it was, how he had to try his best not to lap everything up. Michael shakes his head.  _Wake up, wake up wake up wake up oh God oh God please. This can't be real oh God. I can't be. I can't be dead. This has to be a dream please, God._ He starts panicking and tears are welling up in his eyes, obstructing his sight.

Michael looks at the horror movie-like scene in front of him.  _He_ had done this. This was  _real_. This had happened. He was a-  _shit._ No. _No_. Fucking hell, there was no going around this, was there?

Michael had just killed somebody.

This was insane, what had he done? Michael begins to feel nauseous again, his vision becoming blurred at the edges. He feels like throwing up. He needs to get all this  _shit_  out of his body. He wants to scream. He wants to _cry_.

Instead, he runs.

He runs straight home and locks the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep on reminding me to update!!! And also please do tell me what you think of the story so far, I can't do it without all the feedback!! <3


	9. 009

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having a really hard time with school the past few weeks (months), and combined with a writer's block didn't do very good for this story, I'm so sorry!
> 
> Bless you, Marin, for telling me to update.
> 
>  
> 
> TW for this chapter: Referenced Self-Harm, read with precaution!

Michael sits wit his back against the bathroom wall, shaking, his head in his hands.

He'd just thrown up  _blood_.

If he dares to raise his head and look in the toilet, he could see it all still there. Though he really didn't need to, he could fucking  _smell_ it. It made him sick how  _good_ it smelled and how -if he wasn't in such shock right now- he'd want to drink it all up again.

Michael could feel tears burning in his eyes, and his vision becomes blurry. He's not quite sure how he even has any tears left, but they're flowing down his face like a river.

Millions of thoughts are racing through his head, Michael couldn't keep track. What the _hell_ just happened?  _How_ did this even happen? Was this even real? Was this a twisted prank gone wrong? How the  _hell_ did he not know vam-  _creatures_ like this existed? Did they really, though? Or was Michael hallucinating or dreaming or unconscious in a hospital after an accident? Was his imagination really that vivid? Why the fuck did  _he_ have to be like this? He'd always imagined what it'd be like to be immortal but he'd take it all back after today. He didn't want this. Was that why? Because when he was little he'd secretly loved the idea of being a vampire?  
It was all his fault. He didn't even know how it'd happened, or what it is exactly that he did to deserve this, but he'd messed up. Somehow.

The bathroom door opens, pulling Michael out of his thoughts. As he looks up he could vaguely recognize Luke's figure through his tears.

"Michael? Oh my God, Michael are you okay?" He kneels down next to him. He grabs Michael's shoulder but he swat his arm away.

"S-stay away,  _please_." He knows his voice is muffled but he couldn't care less right now.

"Mikey, what happened?"

"I can't- I"

"Look at me, please." Michael buried his face deeper in the sleeves of his hoodie.

Luke gasps. " _Jesus_ , Mikey, is that blood?"

"'s not mine." He didn't dare look his friend in the eye.

"Mike, you're  _clearly_ not okay, let me  _help_ you." Luke reaches for Michael's hand but drops it immediately in shock.

Michael looks up.  
"How?" he sobs.

"What?" Luke seems thrown-off.

"How will you help me?"   
Whatever Luke had planned, Michael couldn't see it helping him in any way. He was a mess. How was he going to fix  _this_?

"Well, we can start with a hot shower, and I'll tuck you into bed. I'll take the day off tomorrow and I'll take care of you all day. As long as you need to feel better."

Luke didn't understand. Of _fucking_  course he didn't.

"It's more than that, Luke, I-"

"Then we'll focus on that, later. Let's get you cleaned up, alright? I hate to see you hurting yourself." _Wait_ , did he think Michael had self-harmed? Whatever. Doesn't matter right now. Maybe he could hide all this from his friends, they wouldn't believe him, anyway.

Michael looks at Luke. He has a sympathetic expression on his face and Michael almost feels guilty for making him think he cut himself. He doesn't blame Luke for thinking that, though. After all, his sleeves were nearly _soaked_ in blood, and he'd found Michael crying alone in the bathroom. What actually happened was much,  _much_ worse but they couldn't know. They couldn't.

Luke gets up and offers Michael a hand. He hesitates, but takes it anyway. No point in making him any more worried than he already is. Luke pulls Michael up on his feet and turns around.

"Let's get this shower start-" Luke's breath hitched.

_Oh no._

Luke was looking straight at the toilet. He's seen the blood, no doubt.

"Michael?" Luke sounded small, scared. He turns again to look him in the eyes, Michael could feel the panic rising in his gut, and starts tearing up again.

Before he could say anything -not that he felt like he was able to, anyway- Luke turned away and ran out the door, leaving Michael.

He stands there. Alone. Michael tries to control his breathing, he knows he's on the edge of a panic attack, and he can't move.

He couldn't get the sight of Luke's face out of his head. He had looked scared.  _Terrified_. What if he was scared  _of him_ oh _God_ what was he going to do? How was he going to explain this? Would his roommates still like him? Were they going to kick him out if they found out? Fuck, maybe that'd be better for everyone. Michael had fucking  _murdered_ somebody today,  _with his bare hands_! What if he lashed out on  _Ashton?_ _Or Luke, or Calum?_ Shit, this was so wrong this was so, _so_ very fucked up this isn't real this _can't_ be.

Michael falls back down onto the floor, and cries into the blood-stained sleeves of his hoodie. He holds his breath as soon as he catches a whiff of the blood. He doesn't want to be reminded of what he's done wrong, what  _monster_ he'd become. Michael is so caught up in his thoughts (and the feeling of how empty his stomach was) that he barely registers Ashton entering the bathroom and picking him up bridal-style, carrying him downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Ashton puts him down on the couch, Michael feels like he can breathe again. He's aware of how fatigued he was. He was drained, physically and emotionally. Ashton sits down next to him and pulls Michael into a hug. 

Michael doesn't protest. It felt as if he was watching himself from afar, as if he wasn't fully  _there_. On top of that, he was  _exhausted._  His body wouldn't allow him to fall asleep, though.

Ashton brushes his hand through Michael's hair and hums a melody to some song Michael couldn't recognize. He feels his breathing calm down, and the endless flow of tears seemed to finally come to a halt.

"Mikey?" Ashton asks softly after a while.

He hums in response.

"Can I ask what happened today?" He shifts his position so he could look at Michael.

As soon as he meets Ashton's eyes however, Michael can feel the tears coming up again. How in the _world_ would he explain the massive pool of blood in the bathroom? Would Ashton even believe him if he told him the truth? How was he going to convince him that he'd been turned into a-  _Fuck_. How was he ever going to convince  _himself_?

Michael takes a deep breath and sits upright.

"I, I honestly don't know how to explain this." his voice was shaking.

"Try to, please. I want to help."

"It's just, it's so surreal and I'm sure you won't believe me and I- I don't even believe myself! This can't be real,  _fuck_."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's okay. You'll be okay." Ashton puts his hand on Michael's thigh, but he brushes him off immediately.

"That's just it, Ash! I'm  _not_ going to be okay! I'm sick and I don't know what's going on and I'm so fucking  _scared_ , Ashton." He allows himself to be swallowed by another hug. It's nice. He feels a little safer in Ashton's arms, it kept him grounded.

Michael buries his face into Ashton's sweater, staining it with his snot and tears (and blood too, but Michael didn't want to think about that right now).

"We'll work it out together, okay? We've got your back."

Michael hums and listens to Ashton's steady heartbeat. He then jolts up in panic and shuffles over to the other side of the couch, as far away from Ashton as possible. He puts his hand on his chest, right where his heart was. He focused, hoped, _prayed_ to feel something, but he didn't. 

 _I don't have a heartbeat_.

He felt tears brimming in the corners of his eyes again. _Again!_ Impatiently waiting to hear something,  _anything_. To prove him wrong and tell him that he was  _fine_ and nothing was wrong and he could just go to sleep and wake up the next morning and everything would be alright again.

"Michael?" Ashton looked worried.

"A-Ash." He says with his hand still on his chest.  _Nothing_.

"What's wrong?"

Michael looks up at his friend, eyes wide. The whole idea had seemed so foreign up until now, but this settled it. This was real, there was no going around it.

He pauses and catches his breath. Hoping his voice wouldn't be too shaky, Michael spoke.

"Ash, I- I think I'm  _dead_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the basic plotline written down, so hopefully I'll be able to write a lot during summer vacation. Thanks for sticking around!!!
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr: [@clrummer-boy](http://www.clrummer-boy.tumblr.com)


	10. 010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've re-read all of INO(IP) up until this chapter, and realized there's actually quite a few gramatical mistakes and things I'd like to word differently, so I think I'm going to fix all that before I upload chapter 11.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter! I promise the next one will be much more eventful :)

" _Dead?_ What do you mean? You're here, aren't you? I can touch you and hear you and see you, right?" Ashton looks at him confused.

Michael sighs. He knew it wouldn’t be easy.

"Ash, _please_. Just, put your hand on my chest and tell me I'm wrong. Tell me my heart’s still beating and prove me I'm not going crazy and this is all a dream.” Michael is sure they both would’ve laughed at how many times his voice cracked, but the older boy seems unaffected. _Shocked_ , rather. Maybe the magnitude of the situation had dawned on him.

Ashton raises his hand nonetheless. Michael watches as Ashton brings it up slowly, and hesitantly puts it right where Michael’s heart is. It felt odd, now that he knew it didn’t beat anymore. He’d laugh if he hadn’t _actually_ died. He knew his heart would be beating out of his chest right now.

Ashton keeps his gaze locked on his hand. Michael could almost see the cogs turning in his head. He waits for Ashton to say something, but the boy keeps silent, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

"I'm not making this up. Believe me, I wish I was." Michael breathes out, feeling the tears rolling down his face.

Ashton's eyes widen and he pulls his hand back in an instant. He takes hold of Michael’s upper arms and looks the younger boy in the eye with worry.

"What  _happened_  to you?" He said softly, a strict undertone in his voice. _Fuck,_ was he accusing Michael of being insane? Did he  _still_  not believe him? Had Michael _actually_ gone mad? Did Ashton hear his heartbeat just fine, and was Michael hallucinating?

_No._

He _wasn’t_ hallucinating _._ Michael _knows_ what happened to him earlier today. He _knows_ he couldn’t make this all up, even if he wanted to.  
He’d been sick all week, for God’s sake! His skin had burnt when he stepped into the sunlight, what more proof did Ashton need?!

"You, you don't-" Michael wasn’t sure how to word his response. He was lost in the whirlpool of words and emotions spinning through his head.

"No! No, I believe you, Michael." Ashton looks him in the eye. "I trust you're telling me the truth. Hell, you're cold as ice and actually look like a zombie. Surely there'll be a logical explanation for all this, right? I mean, how did you- how are you  _dead_?" Michael sighs in relief, feeling slightly more calm. _He wasn’t mad. Ashton believed him. This is real._

_Fuck._

This is _real._

Sure, Ashton believed he’d died. Maybe he thinks Michael had turned into a ghost or something, but how would he react if Michael told him he wasn’t _just_ dead, but **also** _a fucking **vampire**?_

"I don't know.” Michael began. “I woke up really sick last sunday, and everything's only gotten worse after that."

Ashton nods at him to continue.

Michael takes a deep breath, not sure if he wants to relive everything already. He figures it’d be best if he built it up a bit, start from the moment everything began to crumble down.

"This morning, when I went outside to get some aspirin, as soon as I stepped into the sunlight it felt like my skin was melting off. It hurt so bad but I thought I was imagining it because when I got inside the drug store, nothing was wrong. The burn marks had disappeared and I thought I was going _crazy_. But when I went back outside it only got worse. It felt like I was dying, and I was almost home when this man asked for some spare change or whatever, and I, I-" Michael buries his head in his arms, curling up into a ball on the couch.

Ashton brushes his hand on Michael's back. "What happened, Mikey?"

He looks up. "I  _killed_  him, Ash! I fucking  _killed_ the man and  _drank his blood!_ I wasn't in control and I couldn't help myself and it was _so good_  and I  _finally_  felt  _fine_ again, and then he- he dropped to the floor and I came to my senses and I ran home and threw up. I threw up  _blood_ , Ashton.  _His_ blood." Michael tried to control his ragged breathing. He looks at Ashton who was staring silently into the distance. Michael felt tense, the silence was nerve wracking.

"You're a vampire." The older boy concluded.

"Y-yeah." Michael says softly. He didn’t dare say it out loud himself.

Much to his surprise, Ashton pulls him in for a hug again, and Michael cries into his already stained shirt. Ashton wasn't running away, he didn't call him a freak, he was  _hugging_ him!

"We'll figure this out together, okay?" He whispers into Michael’s hair and _God dammit_ Michael didn’t deserve Ashton. He was taking this way too lightly and wasn’t scared in the least. Admittedly, Michael didn’t look very threatening, all curled up to his roommate, bawling his heart out. Even if Ashton _was_ scared, he didn’t show it and Michael couldn’t be more grateful.

Michael hugs back tightly, but starts to feel the exhaustion catching up to him pretty quickly, so he lays his head on Ashton’s lap and closes his eyes. Ashton brushes his hand through Michael's hair, effectively calming him down. The two sit like that for a while, relaxing in each other’s company. Michael is content, leaning into his friend's touch.

He feels ready for sleep to take him, when Calum and Luke walk into the room and sit down on the other couch next to Ashton and him. The bubble Ashton and him had been in had burst, and the change in atmosphere was more than noticeable.

Michael doesn't need to open his eyes to know that the three are exchanging glances.   
"Is he asleep?" Luke speaks up softly after a solid minute. Michael can hear him clear as day, though. Michael sighs and replies “No, I’m awake.” but keeps his eyes shut.

“Um,” Calum mumbles. “I hate to break whatever’s been going on here, but, care to explain what the _hell_ happened today?”  
Michael groans and sits upright. Leaning his head on his arms, he looks at his two other roommates and friends.

They deserve an explanation, but Michael is _so_ not ready to go through all of it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking around!! If it weren't for you, this fic would probably be abandoned right now <3
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr: [@clrummer-boy](http://www.clrummer-boy.tumblr.com)


	11. 011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it and longer than ever!!!
> 
> It's been way too long since I've updated, I'm so so so sorry. My computer crashed a while ago and I lost everything that I'd written, and it took me quite long to find the motivation to write again.  
> I've edited all the previous chapters, and changed Calum finding Michael in the bathroom to Luke, for continuity purposes.
> 
> Honestly thank you guys s o much for your patience, I promise this fic will be finished, however long it'll take <3
> 
> TW for this chapter: Graphic depiction of gore & blood

"You're kidding." Calum says, breaking the silence that had fallen between the four of them.  
"Ashton, you're not telling me you _actually_ believe him, right?" He raises his voice in disbelief.

Luke sits next to Calum on the couch, keeping to himself quietly. Probably processing what in _the world_ was going on.

Michael, exhausted, yet unable to fall asleep, leans his head on Ashton's shoulders. Ashton had told Calum and Luke what Michael had told him earlier, but Calum clearly thought it was all a joke.

"Calum, look at me." Ashton says. "You've been with Michael more than any of us, you've _got_ to admit _something's_ changed, right?"

"Yes. He's _sick_. Not a fucking _vampire_ , alright?!" He throws his hands in the air for emphasis. "Just listen to yourself! This makes no fucking sense!"

Ashton sighs, but Michael can't find the energy to react at his stubbornness.

"We need to get him to a hospital." Calum stands up abruptly, grabs Michael's wrists tightly and pulls him up from the couch.

It takes a couple of moments before Michael's brain registers what's going on, and he realizes that Calum is pulling him towards the front door.

The faint "Cal, wait!" Ashton yells after them sets panic arise in Michael's guts. The sun's still out. He's going to _burn_ to _death_. Michael pulls and pushes and tries to loosen Calum's grip but he doesn't give. Either Calum's too strong, or Michael had become too weak.

The younger boy doesn't loosen his grip and opens the front door. Michael squints at the bright light shining in and already feels his legs give under him.

This was it, then.

It feels like the world is moving in slow motion. As Calum pulls Michael further outside, he sees Ashton and Luke running after them. Both their eyes widen. Luke's in confusion, and Ashton's in fear.

Michael opens his mouth to say something, but before he can make a noise the world speeds up again and the all too familiar feeling of being burned alive shoots through to his bones.

He closes his eyes and screams.  
His limbs start to feel numb and ache with pain at the same time. It's way too hot and Michael feels like his skin is _actually_ melting. All he can think about is _make it stop make it stop please end it stop it please please just end it already._

He barely registers the pair of arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him back inside, out of the sunlight.  
The burning sensation stops immediately, but his whole body still hurts like mad. Michael breathes in and out heavily, tries to focus, but doesn't dare open his eyes.

He stays still in what he now recognizes are Ashton's arms, and it isn't until Calum gets inside and closes the door that the silence is broken again.

"Oh my God." Luke says softly, speaking for the first time.

Only when Ashton whispers out a soft "Holy shit." does Michael dare open his eyes. And _good fucking God_ they are right to be surprised.

Everywhere on his body, his hands, arms, legs, each part of Michael's skin that the sunlight has touched has been burnt _badly_. Skin a sickly red, almost black, even. On some parts his skin had disappeared _completely_ , leaving muscles and bones exposed.

That, however shocking it is, is not what was not what had his friends all stumped, Michael sees. It was the fact that it was _healing_.

In a matter of _seconds_ all his wounds closed up. Skin regenerated out of nowhere, and left no scars.

Michael moves his hands and inspects them. Nothing. No marks, no pain. As if the whole ordeal just now didn't even happen.

The rate at which he'd healed _terrified_ Michael. He can't _imagine_ what he must've looked like to his friends a minute ago. He quickly shakes the thought from his head, he doesn't want to think about it.

Ashton spins Michael around and looks him in the eyes. He looks him over briefly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, worry dripping from his words.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Michael's voice is soft and hoarse, and his throat feels dry, but that's the least of his worries, now.

Ashton sighs in relief, and Michael smiles faintly. He's okay. He's  _okay_.

"I- I don't understand," Calum seems lost for words. "what the hell just happened?"

"We all saw the same thing you did, Cal." Michael appreciates Ashton taking control of the situation.

Michael frees himself from Ashton's grip and turns around.

"You nearly died." Calum states. "I almost _killed_ you." And if Michael's honest, it looks like Calum might need comforting more than Michael does, right now. 

"Wait." Luke says. "Does that mean all the blood in the bathroom-?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my God..." All color drains from Luke's face and he turns his back to Michael, he looks like he's about to throw up.

Luke doesn't though, and instead walks back to the living room. "Let's- Let's talk this out, shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~

They all sit down in silence. Luke and Calum are clearly still trying to process all that's happened and to be honest, Michael isn't sure if he understands anything himself, either.

The adrenaline of the situation starts to ebb away and Michael pulls up his legs to rest his head on his knees. His throat hurts a bit and he tries to focus on what they were talking about.

Luke, Ashton, and Calum were discussing everything that happened today, the past week, and to Michael. Michael, however, keeps zoning out.

He can't help but notice how every time he swallows it's like his throat gets more and more dry. He tries to ignore it as best he can but surely enough, his stomach grumbles and he starts to feel thirsty.

Luke rambles on about whatever has sparked his sudden interest in leading the conversation, but all Michael can think about is the pain that starts to rise in his throat every time he breathes in.

He's about to get up from the couch to get some water and maybe an aspirin, when it hits him.

He can't drink water anymore.

Michael's sure his heart would be _racing_ in his chest right now because he remembers _all too well_ what happened earlier today with that poor man and now Michael starts to smell that same _ridiculously intoxicating_ scent again and _fuck they're all in the same room as me. If I lose control again they'd- They'd die. This is way too dangerous shit shit shit shit._

"Michael? Everything alright?" He's not even sure whose voice it is but it sounds vaguely distant. Michael looks up and sees three pair of worried eyes latched onto him. _Shit_ he probably didn't look very good to them. Regardless, he had to get away. For their safety.

He opens his mouth to make up an excuse for leaving when a sharp pain shoots through Michael's upper jaw, and Michael starts to panic when he tastes _blood_ , before he realizes it's his _own_.

He feels around his mouth with his tongue and surely enough, two long, sharp _fangs_ have protruded. _Why the_ **_fuck_ ** _not?!_

Michael, shocked, puts his hands in front of his mouth and tries to keep himself from breathing through his nose. He's not sure what would happen if he stayed here any longer and he sure as hell doesn't want to find out.

He stands up abruptly, and runs to the hallway, up the stairs, and into his bedroom as fast as possible. He locks the door behind him and leans against it.

Michael cries. Today, hell, this whole week is just too much for him to handle. He almost _died_ today. His _friends_ almost died today! A stranger has _actually_ died today by  _his own fucking hands!_  How in the _world_ was he going to survive?!

Michael buries his head in his arms. The hunger has gone away, but his fangs hadn't. It's an all too grim reminder of what he has become.

He sits like that for a while. At least, until his breathing went back to normal. He can hear his roommates talking downstairs. Deciding that it might be a good distraction, Michael listens in on their discussion.

"What does this mean for us? I mean, we all saw what happened." Luke says.  
"What are you getting at, Luke?" Ashton sounds tired.

"Listen, Ash, I believe you. I believe you one hundred percent but this is _dangerous_ . What's going to happen to us if when we live with an _actual_ vampire?"

"Come on, that's ridic-"

"No, he's right. What if Michael loses control? Will we turn, too? Will we _die_? We don't know how this works and frankly, I don't want to get hurt!"

 _Ouch_. A pang of pain shoots through Michael's chest because _they're right_. He _is_ dangerous. They _don't_ know how to handle this and they _aren't_ safe.

He tries to focus on their voices downstairs again, but all he can hear is a steadily louder becoming pattern of _ba-bump, ba-bump._

Michael doesn't have to think twice to know the meaning of that and he drops his head again because _oh my God that is_ **_so_ ** _fucked up._

Even when he doesn't focus on it the rhythmic pattern, no, _patterns,_ are clear as day and are louder than even Michael's own thoughts.

He has to get out.

Michael gets up and peeks through his curtains to see that the sun is low on the horizon. It's going to set pretty soon.

With the bumping getting louder and louder Michael rushes around his room and haphazardly throws some clothes and his wallet into a backpack. He throws in a couple toiletries and spends what feels like hours debating on whether he should take his phone or not.

He decides that no, he won't need it, and impatiently waits for the sun to set.

Michael catches a glimpse of himself in his full-body mirror.  _Damn._ He thinks.  _I actually look like a monster._

The first thing he notices is his eyes. His irises were completely black, now. His skin was sickly pale and Michael would laugh at how iconic he looks if it wasn't for the the fact that it looked as if someone had stretched his skin over his bones. His hair was disheveled, and not to mention the fact that there was  _blood_ all over his face, hands, and clothes. It was even still tinting the corners of his face and yeah, he looks  _properly_ scary.

Michael hastily rubs the dried blood off his face as best he can, and changes into a clean shirt and jeans. He throws on a hoodie just in case, and stares outside through the window until it starts to hurt his eyes.

Sooner than later the sun disappears behind the horizon, and Michael waits a bit longer before he even dares to open his window. He sticks his hand outside slowly, carefully, and lets out a shaky breath in relief when it doesn't feel like he's stuck it in a 5.000 degree oven.

Michael grabs his backpack and positions himself on the ledge. He looks back at his mess of a room. It won't be long before they realize he's gone. He takes a deep breath and jumps.

Michael starts to run as fast he can.  _It's for the best._ He keeps repeating in his head.  _It's for their safety._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so so sO much for still being here, I love this story to bits and I'm so sorry that I suck at updating. Your comments honestly mean the world to me <3
> 
> Also, should I name the chapters? Please give me your thoughts.
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr: [@clrummer-boy](http://www.clrummer-boy.tumblr.com)


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